


The Burger King Battles

by impossiblyawesome



Series: Something I Need (oneshots) [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Gen, M/M, i just got carried away, this is total crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 04:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/935210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblyawesome/pseuds/impossiblyawesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I officially declare this a non-burger zone,” Enjolras pronounces, slamming a blue-tacked poster titled BURGERS PROHIBITED and complete with a heavy cross over the Burger King logo onto the door. “If you can’t respect that, Grantaire, then get out.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Burger King Battles

**Author's Note:**

> In which Enjolras has an irrational hatred of Burger King, and Grantaire goes out of his way to provoke him.
> 
> (Prompted on tumblr.)

Fast food itself is bad enough.

Enjolras’ fast food rants are worse.

His intense vendetta against Burger King takes the biscuit.

To be fair, he has a point. Sort of. (Or he did, once, before Enjolras started eruptingwhenever he was reminded of his hatred, the rants not slowing for a good twenty-three minutes most times.) But it is best to leave the volcano dormant. Mostly, his friends refrain from bringing it up.

Mostly.

* * *

Crowded in the back room of the cafe as usual, it seems an average day for the group. They are deep in discussion - or at least, Enjolras, Combeferre and Feuilly are. Courfeyrac is crowing too loudly with laughter as he takes Bossuet through the 172-photo-long slideshow of Enjolras candids from the morning before their latest rally. Enjolras has not yet found a chance to eliminate them from the universe, though - he remembers the constant flashing of the camera ten centimetres from his face with a pang of agony - he really would like to.

He loses focus when Grantaire walks in, crumpled bag cradled in his arms. Enjolras zeroes in on the bag’s logo, though the sickening smell has already given it away.

“Must you?” Enjolras begins, stiff with disdain. Everyone looks around.

“Mus’-I-what?” Grantaire answers, grinning broadly despite - or perhaps not despite - the mouthful of burger he has started chomping on.

“Bring _that_  in here.”

Background groans have already commenced. Combeferre is furtively gesturing at Grantaire, instructing him to cut - it - out - please.

Grantaire doesn’t get the memo. “I’m not asking you to eat it.” He rolls his eyes, taking another bite of burger.

“It’s not about me being tempted to eat anything!” Enjolras exclaims. “It’s about you so callously supporting a company called Burger King! For one, I don’t understand how anyone can possibly think the introduction of these chains have bettered society… What good comes from letting these giant corporations profit? Our society is being devalued, _destroyed_. And have you forgotten about the environmental costs? These people don’t care about anything but making money. They find it acceptable to mislead the people… Think of the health issues!”

At this point, Joly perks up and nods vehemently. He looks like he is about to add something, but Grantaire has just raised an eyebrow and Enjolras is already ploughing on in retaliation.

“But no, not only have you been brainwashed into the barbaric consumption of fast food that is hardly more than glorified plastic and animal guts, you choose to let your money go to the worst sub-par restaurant chain there is.”

“Burger King, Grantaire!” Enjolras sounds betrayed.

“Burger  _King!_  What gives that company the right? Suggesting that they are at the top of the fast food hierarchy is ridiculous, they are never going to be the most successful brand. But what is worse, it’s as though they believe they can force us all to be their subjects, like they can entrap us with their promises of quick cheap food of an unforgivable quality, because that’s all that matters in life. Well, we live in a republic now, we have no kings! But the point is worsened, because even presenting themselves as a monarchy is a lie; Burger King is no better than a dictatorship. A giant chain, forcing their ideologies onto the people, trying to brainwash the population. They’ll spread poverty and disease through society and one day, they’ll end up ruining the lives of everyone they pretend they serve.” He breathes heavily, eyes narrowed dangerously at Grantaire. “How can you  _eat_  that?”

Everyone waits with bated breath, hoping that they’ve officially endured the rant and now may get back to their lives and bad Enjolras photos.

He suddenly isn’t sure whether Grantaire has even listened to the argument, because Grantaire is still smiling absently. “How can you  _not_?” He shrugs, waving a chicken nugget temptingly in Enjolras’ face, which earns him the stink-eye again. Enjolras isn’t pleased that Grantaire hasn’t even bothered to argue back. It’s like he doesn’t even take the situation seriously.

“I propose another boycott,” Enjolras addresses the rest of the group, continuing as though Grantaire is not sitting there with a shark-grin pretending to chuck nuggets at him.

* * *

It keeps happening. Every time he looks up from where he is working, planning or discussing, when he glances across the room in the middle of a serious speech, he sees Grantaire. That bastard, always munching on a hamburger, a lopsided Burger King crown perched atop his curls, as if there is nothing he wants to witness more in the world than Enjolras spontaneously combusting.

Enough is enough. One day, he snaps.

The next, he comes prepared.

“I officially declare this a non-burger zone,” Enjolras pronounces, slamming a blue-tacked poster titled BURGERS PROHIBITED and complete with a heavy cross over the Burger King logo onto the door. “If you can’t respect that, Grantaire, then get out.”

“Are you serious?”

Enjolras sweeps the scattered remains of the meal off the table and crushes the box under his foot in answer.

There is a moment of stunned silence, and a room full of pained pouts.

Someone kicks their feet up on a spare chair, lifting their hands to rest behind their head nonchalantly.“That only says burgers, though,” Grantaire points out, smirking. “So you have no objection to anything else purchased from The Fast Food Chain That Must Not Be Named?”

Enjolras glowers, but, well used to Grantaire trying to poke holes in his arguments, marches back over to his poster and scribbles out the ‘S’ to add ‘KING’ to the title. Just to make it perfectly clear. He will make it a watertight case if it means that Grantaire will stop.

“What if I just came in with some onion rings?” Grantaire tries levelly, sounding as though onion rings are the least offensive food in the world. “What did onion rings ever do to you?”

“ _Please_ ,” Enjolras is exasperated. “It’s not about the onion rings, it’s the principle.” Why does Grantaire insist on pretending not to understand? “If they’re from Burger King, they’re banned.”

“Okay.” Grantaire is quiet for a moment. “So is McDonalds off-limits, too?”

Enjolras grits his teeth.

“As a matter of fact,  _yes_ , while we’re at it,” He says, brandishing the sharpie darkly. “ _All_ … fast…food… is… not allowed. No fast food at meetings,” He explains intently, as he amends his poster again.

* * *

“What are you  _doing_?”

Grantaire sounds about as dignified as anyone who is entirely drunk and also dressed up as a box of french fries could. “I am protesting against your protest. Because your protest is stupid.”

“Says the one dressed as fast food.” Enjolras snaps.

“But doesn’t he look  _de_ licious,” Bahorel says emphatically, licking his lips at Grantaire. Grantaire leans over, mock-offering one of the squishy french fries poking out of him.

“Hey Enj, maybe you’d have more chance against Burger King if you dressed up!” Courfeyrac suggests, too keenly.

“Dressing up is not the point of a protest, Courfeyrac!”

“Go as a cow getting guillotined.” Jehan remarks. “At least there’s a message in that. A nice nod to the revolution. The overthrow of monarchy. Rallying against their beef burgers.”

“Ketchup could symbolise blood - the blood on their hands - the blood of the cows, and the people they’ve killed from all that cholesterol -”

Combeferre looks intrigued.

“I’m sure there’d be a way to play on the horsemeat scandal, if -”

Enjolras growls.

“I am giving everyone three seconds to shut up, or I will personally tear that ridiculous costume off Grantaire right now.”

No one looks particularly dismayed by the idea, and so they break into raucous laughter.

Grantaire stands up, expectant (though standing up - moving - takes considerable effort in a box). He holds out his arms amidst the forest of french fries.  

“I’d say that goes against everything you believe in, threatening freedom of expression and all that… but you’re welcome to,” he says cheerfully. “Though I warn you, I’ve got nothing on underneath.”


End file.
